


Steps Forward

by ArgylePirateWD



Category: Forever (TV)
Genre: Apologies, Dating, F/M, Forgiveness, Grief/Mourning, Healing, Post-Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-10 22:20:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7863400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArgylePirateWD/pseuds/ArgylePirateWD
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After some of his wounds begin to heal, Henry can't help thinking of Molly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Steps Forward

**Author's Note:**

  * For [csichick_2](https://archiveofourown.org/users/csichick_2/gifts).



The way he'd ended his relationship with Molly was not his finest moment.

He was ill-suited for romancing anyone then. Too many years of questions and grief weighed upon him. Molly almost dying hammered all of that home. No, he could not bear the burden of letting himself be vulnerable to another he'd inevitably lose, not yet. Possibly, not ever.

Some of that weight had been lifted. He knew what had happened to Abigail, had been able to lay her to rest at last. The ultimate cause of her demise had been dealt with, was no longer a threat to anyone. The wounds still ached, but not as badly. And now that Jo knew his deepest secret, he had someone who understood that sort of pain helping him cope with the renewed sense of loss and grief.

A case got him thinking of Molly again. Accidental electrocution, not a murder, but that little shock was all it took to nudge his thoughts in her direction. Just a flicker of curiosity at first, wondering how she was doing, how well she'd recovered from the attack. If she ever thought of him. If she had forgiven him for breaking up with her while she was in the hospital, if she ever could forgive him. If he was worthy of that forgiveness at all.

"If I were her," Jo said, when she'd pried his thoughts out of him over drinks, "I'd never speak to you again."

Henry swallowed his sip of cognac. "Even if you knew the circumstances?"

"Oh, I'd never find out the circumstances," Jo said. "Like I said—I'd never speak to you again." After pausing for a drink of her Scotch, Jo gently amended, " _But_ if I did somehow find out that you were still grieving over the love of your life, I _might_ listen to you for a minute or two. And, you know, I'm not Molly, so.

"Henry," she continued, with a sigh. "If you want to know what she thinks, you have to talk to her. Go to her office, or call her or something, and say hi, and see if she kicks you out on your butt or lets you explain. And if she kicks you out on your butt? I'm here, and I'll listen. Okay?"

For a while, he didn't get the chance to breathe, much less go talk to Molly. Summer was a busy time for medical examiners, especially in New York. Hot temperatures, hotter tempers, flaring up together in a conflagration of death. He died twice, once from a bicycle accident, the other from a stray bullet while trying to investigate a suspect by himself. The latter landed him in jail for public indecency again, and the subject of mandatory therapy came up once more.

When his instinctual horror over the idea of therapy wore off, his thoughts eventually drifted back to a specific therapist: Molly. Was she still working as a domination therapist and as a professor? Yes to both, he found. And was he ready to try seeing her again? Considering the flurry of excitement and nervousness in his belly whenever he thought of her, he suspected the answer to that question was yes as well.

Summertime faded into autumn, and time brought with it the certainty that he could keep breathing when someone said the name Abigail. She never would have wanted him to continue like this, living this dull and safe half-life. The greatest lesson she'd taught him was that life was about the journey, and there were still a few journeys he needed to take.

So when Abe went away for a few days, Henry bought a red rose, and he went to Molly's office at the university.

She was busy teaching a class when he arrived, but he could wait, and he did. Part of him tried to talk him into leaving. He'd been, in Jo's words, "a total ass" when he'd left Molly. _Why would she want to see you?_ he wondered, a roiling tangle of guilt filling his stomach. But he missed Molly, and her teasing smiles and her intriguing mind and her beautiful spirit. He had to try.

When she walked in, she was engrossed in something on one of those tablet devices, oblivious to his presence. And, oh, she was stunning as always, her blonde curls cascading down her shoulders, her graceful body clothed in a wine-colored dress that looked whisper soft, her makeup a perfect compliment to her lovely face. He spotted the pink scar on the delicate curve on her throat, and felt a pang in his chest. It was a stark, painful reminder of her mortality, and for a moment, he considered trying to sneak away.

Perhaps this was a bad idea.

Molly glanced up from her tablet, and did a double-take at him. "Henry!" she said, a radiant smile spreading across her face. She tapped on the screen a few more times, then lowered the tablet to her side, and she approached him with a deliberate sway in her hips. "Now aren't you a sight for sore eyes."

Henry exhaled with relief, and he got to his feet, grinning. "I must say the same for you, Molly. You look—" He gave her a deliberate once-over that he suspected she'd appreciate. "—quite well." He held out the rose, and her eyes lit up. "This isn't a professional visit. I hope you don't mind."

"Mind?" she asked, accepting the rose with a small laugh. "I don't mind at all." She brought the rose to her nose and inhaled its fragrance, and her gaze went soft. "Why don't you come join me in my office?"

He followed her her inside, and they both took a seat in front of her desk.

"Henry Morgan," she said, setting the rose aside on her desk. "I kind of thought I'd never see you again."

The punch of guilt came full-force. "Yes," he said. "I, ah... I almost thought you wouldn't, either. You told me to look you up when I didn't like you so much anymore, but I must say, that hasn't happened yet." More softly, he added, "I'm truly sorry for how I ended things, Molly. I know it's no excuse, but I wasn't in a very good place in my life at the time."

"Well, if that's not a good excuse," she said, reaching out and placing a hand on his arm, "then I'm afraid I don't know what is. You're in a lot of pain. I saw that when I met you."

"Really?"

"Mm-hm." Her kind smile turned sly. "I'm kind of an expert in pain." Her expression turned serious. "And you always seemed like an expert in being in pain." Henry raised his eyebrows. "You're not as good at hiding things as you think you are."

Shifting in his seat, he said, "You'd be surprised."

"Oh, I know you have a lot of secrets," she said, with a glance toward the scar on his chest. "But you look like they're not weighing you down quite as much as they were? Something changed, didn't it?"

He thought back to Abigail, to the combination of crushing grief and painful relief that came with finding her again. And Adam. Breaking Adam's terrifying hold on him, if only for a moment. Jo—telling her the truth about his condition, and eventually saving their damaged friendship. "I was able to, um..." Emotion tried to close his throat, and he cleared it. "I was able to mend a few of my old wounds. Learned a few things I needed to help close a particular chapter of my life."

"The woman who hurt you," Molly said.

_"Whoever she is, she hurt you pretty bad, huh?"_

"She never meant to hurt me so badly," he said, quietly. "She left, but she didn't intend to stay away." His eyes started to burn, and he looked down at his hands in his lap. Oh, Christ, maybe he wasn't as healed as he thought. Or would he simply never be able to speak of Abigail without a part of him breaking again? "She just never got the opportunity to return."

Molly slipped her hand lower, and took one of his in hers. He suspected she understood what he wasn't saying, and he was right. "I'm so sorry, Henry."

"Thank you," he said, and squeezed her hand. "Knowing more has been a huge comfort. It still feels horrible, but the pain is manageable now. And I think I'm ready to begin moving beyond it.

"Which is why I came here, actually." He smiled at her. "I came to offer you an apology—and, if you didn't loathe me for how I ended things last time, to offer you dinner." Somehow, though, even the most exquisite restaurant dinner didn't seem quite right. So, after a moment's consideration, he took a deep breath, and added, "Prepared by me, at my place, if you'd like."

"At your place?" Molly's eyebrows shot up. "Wow. That's a _huge_ step."

Was the step too big for her? "Oh."

"No, no—not for us, for you! Inviting me into your home, your space? It's not a bad thing—really. Just a surprise." She gave him a reassuring smile, and entangled her fingers with his. "If you're sure you're comfortable with that—"

"I am," he said, and realized he meant it. Yes, it was time to bring her into his life. Letting her in felt right. Terrifying, of course, but right. "I'm quite comfortable with it."

"Then I would love to."

"Excellent." He beamed. "Tonight?"

"Tonight," she said. Her expression turned wistful, and she sighed. "I've missed you. You're a hard man to forget. To get over. I kept hoping you'd come see me sometime. Which is probably kind of silly." She let out a small laugh. "But I couldn't help it."

Her admission broke his heart. "I truly am sorry, Molly. But if you were silly for thinking of me, then we're both a pair of fools, because once I started bouncing back from finding the answers I needed, all I could think about was you. I've missed you as well. And I find you absolutely unforgettable."

Hopefully, he was more suited for romance this time.


End file.
